


it’s dark and cold for both of us now, buddy

by SaccharineCyanide



Category: The Umbrella Academy
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, Implied Drug Use, Implied Suicide Attempt, Pre-Canon, Substance Abuse, Suicide mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 13:15:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18638842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaccharineCyanide/pseuds/SaccharineCyanide
Summary: when he died, ben didn’t really hold out much hope for his brother that used to be able to conjure the dead.





	it’s dark and cold for both of us now, buddy

ben got his first pet when he was eleven. it was a small snake he named simon, after his favorite character from the last book he read: lord of the flies. reginald had allowed it on the grounds that observing the animal would help him hone the abilities of his own beast inside. at first, his siblings had been annoyed that he was the only one to get a pet, but that was short-lived when they saw that it was a snake. diego had backed away, growling something about “keeping the thing locked up,” but he shut up as soon as vanya had reminded him gently that the “thing” had a name, and his name was simon. luther had wrinkled his nose, but didn’t flinch away at the sight of the snake like diego had. five had tried to piece together what kind of snake it was, and only stopped muttering to himself when allison said that simon was probably getting annoyed at all the attention. klaus had just stared simon down, following his slow movements with wide eyes.

but soon, the novelty wore off, and simon became a topic they briefly discussed every few weeks from noon to half past noon on saturdays. ben never stopped caring for simon, though. he cleaned the tank, he changed the lighting, he put nice rocks that he found on the ground outside the academy inside the tank, solely to make sure that simon was happy and enjoying his life. when simon got sick, ben was the one to nurse him back to health with medicine that grace gave him. he played with simon every day just to make sure that he knew that he was loved.

simon was ben’s stepping stone to realizing that he loved to care. he enjoyed feeling needed by simon, and enjoyed caring for him just as much—if not more. tending to simon felt natural, like it was what ben was born to do. he loved that feeling.

on the day that ben died, before he left for the mission, the light in simon’s tank had flickered out. ben thought of simon when he finally slipped away. _it’s dark and cold for both of us now, buddy._

it didn’t hurt as much as it probably should have. it was quick. cruel, but quick. he barely had time to react. it wasn’t the death part that scared him after the initial shock wore off. it was the fact that no one was there. no one to talk to. nowhere to go. nothing to do. there was nothing.

after a few days, he didn’t miss the academy. not the building, anyway. and certainly not his father. not even pogo, really. but he did miss his siblings. he missed diego and luther and their constant bickering. he missed allison and her bright smile whenever they were fighting next to each other. he missed vanya and how she would fuss over him when he came back from missions. he missed five, too, but he had missed five for a while now. and he missed klaus a _lot_.

ben thought about klaus every day now that he was dead. at first, he hoped that klaus would find him, but that hope had fizzled out once ben had been dead for a week.

by the time he had died, klaus was barely going on missions with them anymore. he was gone for days at a time and returned looking like he’d been through hell and back. he wasn’t eating or sleeping or talking and he looked thinner and paler every day. reginald had stopped including him in mission briefings. he sat on the roof in silence and smoked while everyone else was busy with saving the world, and he seemed fine with that. besides, klaus had told ben two days before he died that he hadn’t used his power in about three years.

so ben wasn’t holding out too much hope for his brother that used to be able to conjure the dead.

he got by on memories of what life used to feel like. how sun felt. how water felt. how warmth felt. how talking to people felt. how caring for simon felt. and that’s what his afterlife was like. for a month, at least.

actually, it had been exactly a month when he heard a voice he barely recognized. it was sudden and jarring to hear something after hearing nothing for such a long time.

“it’s been three days, hasn’t it? exactly...exactly three days. and i, i, i...i think that warrants a bit of a celebration, quite honestly. three days of sobriety is a momentous occasion—especially for me. so if you’re out there somewhere, if you’d kindly show your face, that’d be great. just a minute. just a, just a second. come on, man. i’d really appreciate it...i, i did this for you.”

 _was that…?_ before ben could think about it, a bright light blinded him, and suddenly he wasn’t in his cold, dark place anymore. well, this place was also cold and dark, but it was...alive.

come to think of it, he recognized this place. the alley near the academy, the one that he had taken simon to once, just so the little snake could see snow. ben turned around and looked for the owner of the voice.

“hello?!” he called, regardless of whether anyone could hear. god, if he could just see someone, anyone at all, that’d be enough. for a minute. for a _second_. just anyone. he hadn’t realized how starved he was for human contact, but he really fucking was. he could feel the pavement under his feet and ran, relishing the concrete sensation. “hello?!”

the alley was empty, but he knew that the owner of the voice had to be around here somewhere. as ben reached the end of the alley, he turned the corner only to stop dead in his tracks.

 _holy shit_.

leaning against the brick wall was a thin young man dressed in the ugliest black coat he had ever seen. he looked absolutely terrible, but ben recognized him right away. “klaus?”

klaus flinched and his hands moved instinctively to his ears.

“klaus, it’s me. i’m right here. can you see me?” ben couldn’t keep a desperate tremor out of his voice. “klaus, it’s, it’s ben.”

slowly, klaus put his hands down. “ben…?” he asked. he turned around and looked directly at him. “i can’t...you can’t...that can’t be you...i’m just, i’m just hearing things, i’m…”

ben shook his head. he felt like jumping up and down and waving his arms wildly. “no, klaus, i’m here. i’m right here. i promise, i’m right here. i’m right in front of you.” suddenly, he was begging.

klaus shut his eyes. “they all say that, they all...god, klaus, just…” he reached in his pocket and took out a small bag of something that ben assumed was drugs. as a second thought, klaus reached in his pocket again and took out a mask. all black with see-through white screens over the eyes. ben remembered it well.

“shit, shit, _shit_ …” klaus murmured. he leaned back against the wall, clutching the mask. the bag of pills had been returned to the ugly pocket of the uglier coat. “...shit, _shit, shit, shit_ …”

ben could have cried. “klaus can you try...can you try doing your thing?” one final plea.

klaus exhaled shakily. “i can’t...i haven’t been able to, for years, since, since…”

ben stepped forward so he was directly in front of his brother. “just try.” he whispered. “please.”

klaus’s grip tightened on the mask, but he stood up straight, inching away from the wall. “o-okay, just let me…” he shook his head as if to clear it. slowly, he raised his hand, mirroring the pose of every single “séance” action figure. ben could tell the gesture was foreign to him after not performing it for such a long time, but klaus held the pose and shut his eyes, concentrating hard. for a while, nothing happened. ben saw him getting frustrated, but he didn’t move. suddenly, a warmth took hold of ben’s body. he looked at his hands and saw himself flicker. his skin looked less pale and more like blood actually ran through his veins. “klaus, that’s it.” ben felt himself smile. truly incredible that he still possessed the ability to do so at all. “it’s me, klaus. open your eyes.”

klaus complied and immediately collapsed to the ground.

“shit, klaus?” ben knelt down, the chill of the concrete seeping into his jeans. he put a hand on klaus’s chest, but where he expected to feel his brother’s body, he felt nothing. his hand passed through klaus’s chest, never touching it. before he had time to be disturbed by that fact, klaus opened his eyes.

“jesus christ…” he murmured, incredulous. the physical toll of using his power so intensely after such a long time was slowly starting to fade.

ben couldn’t resist the opportunity to try and make his brother smile again. it had been so long. “no, it’s just me.”

klaus offered him a smile several sizes too small. “it’s, it’s really…” he sat up and reached his hand out to touch ben. ben saw the black “hello” etched into his palm in pen as it passed through his body.

“i can’t touch you, you can’t touch me.” ben whispered. “but i’m here. you brought me here, klaus.”

“i…” klaus stared at him with the same wide eyes that would intently follow simon when they were kids. they were grimly ringed with dark circles and smudged eyeliner, but the same wonder shone out of them.

and just like that, they were inseparable. ben went with klaus everywhere. klaus had his brother back and tried hard to keep him every day. at first, it took a significant toll on klaus’s energy and health to use his powers every day after not using them at all for years, but as time passed, that passed, too.

and even though it was kind of awful, it felt like ben had simon back. he had someone to care for. he reminded klaus to drink water and sleep, and klaus gave him a wonderful fake life in return. things were almost good.

klaus had a shitty apartment with money he earned from working as a cashier for a nearby hole-in-the-wall grocery store. it was a tiny apartment with only a bathroom, a mini-fridge and a bed, but it was perfect for klaus. it was cheap, and that’s all that mattered. and of course, ben didn’t mind.

ben persuaded klaus to clean the apartment now and then and pointed out cute little things that would make it into more of a home. he tended to him and made sure that he didn’t feel lonely. just like with simon.

and then, one day, ben’s world started flickering again. it started slow, with the edges of his vision going grey every now and then. when he asked klaus, klaus avoided the topic. he thought nothing of it at first, but eventually it got so that he couldn’t see straight in front of him. it was a rainy tuesday afternoon when he finally faded out. klaus hadn’t spoken in about a day and ben didn’t comment in case it would result in something terrible. like this.

transitions had always been a little difficult for ben. he just never knew what to do with his tentacles after missions, and that seemed to apply to everything else, too. he’d never been fond of sudden change.

to go from a world of color to black is something otherworldly that no one should ever have to experience. ben _hurt_. everything hurt and he couldn’t breathe and _it’s so dark in here_ and _where’s klaus_ and _take me back there goddamn it klaus fuck you fuck you fuck you_ and _you can’t fucking leave me here you asshole!_

if there was any solid thing in this hellhole of blackness then he would be banging his fists against it until his knuckles bled and his nails broke. he had never been an angry person. diego and five fumed until they exploded, luther simmered in silence, even allison lost her shit every now and again, but ben never held onto those emotions. the way he thought about it, he had enough burning inside him. getting mad would just add to the monster, and that’s the last thing he wanted to do.

but it had been a lot of magical months. ben felt like he was a part of something again. talking with klaus every day filled the hole inside him that death had drilled. and there was no fucking way he was going to miss out on that again. he needed this. he needed this more than anything he had ever needed in the entire duration of his life on earth. couldn’t klaus understand that? there was no warning, no goodbye, no closure, absolutely nothing! and all that was left was to wait and wait and _wait_ until klaus gathered the strength in his scrawny little raccoon body to bring him back to the light, to the land of the living.

ben’s black world opened up to gray ten thousand years later. at first, he didn’t believe it. he burned in silence for so long that any glimmer of hope was charred and distorted. but then he heard his brother’s voice.

“no no no no no _no_...please, no, i ca-i _can’t_...not now, not tonight…” it was klaus’s voice, but was...different. _hollow_. _broken_.

 _good_ , ben thought. _good_. it had been seventeen decades and he was _angry_.

“it’s been...it’s been a rough night and whoever you are...you can wait...can wait until tomorrow morning, _please_ …”

ben shimmered into view and watched as klaus put his hands over his ears and tilted his head back against the brick wall of whatever alley he was lying in. “klaus.” ben growled. words felt foreign on his tongue—he hadn’t spoken in god knew how long, but he knew the way his brother’s name stayed in his mouth long after saying it. his name always left a final hiss on the tip of ben’s tongue. he recognized it. he relished it. “look at me.” he snapped. he was being mean, he knew that, but there was nothing else to feel. nothing left but sharp shards of anger left from ten thousand years ago, when klaus had shattered him.

klaus blinked. “ben…?” he came up on his elbows gingerly, eyes wide.

“what the _fuck_ , klaus.” ben snarled. “you didn’t even give me a warning. you have no idea how death feels. no _fucking_ idea. and you dropped me in the middle of the best time i’ve ever had and you expect me to come back _civil?!_ ” while he was yelling, he noticed little differences in his brother’s face and body. he didn’t look seventeen anymore. _how long had it been?_

klaus rose to his feet, stumbled, and caught himself on the wall. “i don’t...i don’t understand…” he murmured. “i, i, i don’t...you can’t...i h-haven’t…” he stammered, staring at ben with disbelieving eyes. “you look…”

“i don’t want to hear anything you have to say, klaus.” ben interrupted. a millennium’s worth of anger was spilling out of him and he did nothing to stop it. he could hear reginald in his head yelling for _control_ , but that was behind him. he would never use his powers again. fuck control. “i trusted you. you were all i had, and i was all you had—and don’t try to argue with me on that, because i was with you for a long time and not _once_ did i see you interact with anyone but me.” he clenched his fists. he felt like hitting something, but klaus wasn’t strong enough to let him. ben barely felt the ground beneath his feet. whatever he touched, he’d just pass through. a ghost of a ghost. nothing mattered anymore, not now.

“ben, it’s been…” klaus stopped and shut his eyes tight, trying in vain to steady himself enough so that he could finish his sentence. ben didn’t feel like waiting.

“how long has it been, klaus.” he hissed. not a question, but a command. he watched as his brother’s eyelashes fluttered and his eyes started to roll back in his head. klaus was fighting against unconsciousness, and ben could feel it. he just didn’t care.

“i, i don’t…”

“ _HOW LONG?!_ ” ben shouted. he’d never been so angry. he had been trapped in an endless dark hell, and klaus had been, what? getting _high?_ ben was DEAD. nothing to do, nowhere to go. why didn’t that matter to klaus?

klaus flinched so violently he hit his head on the wall. it didn’t look like he had the energy to react. ben didn’t care.

finally, klaus swallowed hard, lifted his head, and spoke. “seven years.” he whispered.

“seven years.” ben repeated, incredulous. “seven fucking years.” klaus was twenty-four. ben had missed five birthdays. ten half-birthdays. “and what have you been doing in five years, klaus?” his voice was acidic, each word a dagger to klaus’s fragile body.

“i can’t do this right now, i...i’m not, it’s too, it’s too soon after...”

“after _what_ , klaus?” ben asked, enunciating every word. it was like he was teaching klaus english all over again, but it didn’t matter. those boys were gone. “too soon after _what?_ ”

“it’s been a whirlwind of a twenty-four hours...” klaus murmured. “i kind of...” he looked down. a glass bottle of what ben assumed was vodka and an empty aluminum pill casing laid guilty on the pavement.

“i see.” ben growled. “you’ve been busy these past seven years.”

klaus swallowed. “...don’t do this.”

“i have every right to do this.” ben snapped. “every _fucking_ right. you have no idea what it felt like, klaus. no idea what being trapped in a dark cage with only your thoughts felt like. you never had to do that, god fucking _damn_ it.” ben’s voice broke on the last sentence. “you’ll never know what that feels like.”

“ben, i—“

“shut UP!” ben cried. “listen to me, klaus, for ONE SECOND, just listen! i have been quiet for so long and you’d better listen to me, you _asshole_.” he started to pace around—not an easy feat when he couldn’t tell whether his shoes were hitting anything beneath him. “listen to me. _listen_. you couldn’t stop being selfish for one minute—one _SECOND_ —and think about how it felt for _me?_ ” ben whirled around and searched klaus’s eyes for anything, anger, guilt, anything, but they were devoid of any emotion whatsoever. glazed-over, half-lidded, hazel nothings.

klaus stood with his hand on the wall for support, looking blankly at ben. ben could have put his fist through that brick wall right there and then. “i need it back, klaus.” he hissed. “i need my life back.” “you need _my_ life back.” klaus whispered. “it was my life, you were just living it.” _the fucking nerve!_ “don’t you _dare_ talk to me—don’t you _fucking_ talk to me. you could NEVER understand needing something this much, klaus.” ben was breathing hard from experiencing everything he’d missed for seven years in the span of a few minutes. “i need this so much it hurts. you could never—“ klaus choked out a raspy laugh, cutting ben off. “klaus, i swear to god—if you don’t shut the fuck up right now, i’ll—“

slowly, klaus drew himself up and let go of the wall to salvage some scrap of dignity before interrupting ben again. “you’ll what?” he asked, sotto voce. “i can...i can walk right through you.”

“then do it.” ben snarled.

klaus blinked. “i...” he looked down at himself, trying to summon enough strength to rise to ben’s challenge.

“you can’t, can you?” ben crowed. “you can’t even stand by yourself! you can’t even—“

“i’m sorry.” klaus swayed and put his hand against the wall again, eyes cast downward. klaus’s quick submission took ben by surprise. he swallowed the rest of his words.

“what?”

“i said, i’m sorry.” klaus glanced at him with sad raccoon eyes. “i wasn’t thinking, i didn’t think...”

“you didn’t think what?” ben asked. klaus may have apologized, but ben was willing to put that to the test. he had seven years’ worth of rehearsed rants to deliver.

“i don’t have the energy to do this with you, ben. if there’s anything i need, it’s a, it’s a trip to the hospital, but we both know that’s not going to get me anywhere.” baby’s first complete sentence! ben could see him concentrating on getting what he needed to say out. finally, a pang of sympathy struck his motionless heart.

if only it lasted.

“does it look like i care right now?!” ben shouted. klaus looked at ben like he just punched him in the jaw. his too-bright eyes widened and for a quick second, ben saw his reflection in them. he looked old. his face was sharper, his eyes colder, his skin paler. no sun in hell. he had aged.

“ben, this isn’t you.” klaus murmured. “this isn’t, this isn’t the ben i know—“

“oh, well, being dead will do that to you, klaus.” ben interjected, clenching his jaw. “you—you couldn’t _possibly_ comprehend the feeling…”

klaus pressed the heel of his hand to his head. “jesus...ben, stop.” he muttered. “i, i _can’t_ …”

ben cried out in frustration. “what?! what can’t you do?! i’m dead, klaus, so think twice before you bitch about something that you have _no idea_ how lucky you are to experience—“

“please, please, _please_ shut up.” klaus shut his eyes tight. “please, oh _please_ …”

“or what, klaus.” ben growled. a warning. a threat. “you’re such a coward, you know that?” he wrung his hands—an old habit from childhood. anything to keep from unleashing the monster. “you could _never_ —“

klaus shook his head slightly before interrupting ben mid-sneer. “ben, you don’t know what i could take.” he choked out. “what i _can_ take. you don’t know...you don’t know what dad…” klaus stopped, started over. “what _reginald_ did...to me.”

ben almost snapped back, but there was something about klaus’s eyes that demanded his silence.

“you think i don’t understand…” klaus choked out an empty laugh. “you think i don’t understand what death feels like, ben?” he looked down at the hand that wasn’t holding him up against the wall. chipped black nail polish decorated his fingernails. “ _me?_ ”

ben had never seen this expression on klaus’s face. it was amusement, sure. but something else, too. something darker. something twisted beyond recognition. “he locked me in a...a _mausoleum_ with _corpses_ for hours and hours and hours, ben.” klaus spoke hoarsely to the ground, only looking up to say his brother’s name. “hours and hours. _days_.”

ben could see him struggling with the memories that resurfaced while saying this. he could always tell when klaus was fighting with himself. always. ben stayed at klaus’s bedside after luther found him in the bathtub the first time—even after he woke up. he taught klaus how to recite things to feel calm. anything—song lyrics, book titles, anything that would keep klaus’s mind off of whatever he was fighting. it always helped ben when he needed to keep things under control.

he stayed with klaus the second time, too, but it wasn’t really the same.

what he never understood was why klaus did all of those things. why he flirted with his own death, why he sought out the end when he felt there was nothing left to seek.

when luther carried him out of the bathroom that first time, there were no tears or screams of pain. luther had carried little twelve-year-old klaus through the hall like it was a funeral procession, and his siblings got to see the body of their brother, the eyes that held no regret. if anything, he had looked disappointed. half-lidded eyes fixed on the empty air in front of him as luther carried him like he weighed nothing. ben remembered trying to check on klaus later that night, but grace wouldn’t let him. allison slipped out of her room and led ben away from klaus’s.

ben remembered looking back at the door with the weird markings that klaus did with one of diego’s pocketknives.

 _sigils of protection_ , klaus had told him once, when they were sixteen and sitting on the roof.

 _what do you need to be protected from?_ ben had asked, a slight edge to his tone. he had just returned home from a tiring group mission and had been ordered to get number four for a personal one, whatever that meant. _there’s no one after you. not like luther, not like diego, not like allison. not like me. you’ve never hurt anyone in your life, why would you need protection?_

 _sometimes_ , klaus had smiled and tapped his head twice. he spoke like he was telling a secret with his ever-expressive voice that was just starting to shake off his german accent. _sometimes i need to be protected from me._

ben never understood that. he chalked it up to klaus being klaus. they all did. they never took his annoying quirks seriously, not even when they put klaus in danger. not even that second time luther carried him from the bathroom, a few days after he and ben had talked about the sigils. this funeral procession was more of one where the deceased had no next of kin, rather than the funeral procession of a resented politician that had occurred four years prior. none of the hargreeves children looked to see the makeshift coffin of luther’s arms. they kept their eyes down, not even looking at each other. and god forbid they look at klaus. luther carried klaus to his room, where he put him down on the floor, scoffed, and slammed the door behind him. he left klaus in his bathwater-soaked clothes to regain the rest of his consciousness in his room, alone.

at dinner that night, number four’s chair was empty. reginald didn’t mention it, but he looked almost smug when vanya put a bit of chicken on his plate—just in case he came down. she did the same thing with five’s chair, too. every night.

halfway through the meal, there were a few loud crashes from upstairs, followed by a girlish shriek. the children had looked up, but reginald acted as if nothing had happened. he made sure that grace stayed by his side and forbid her from going upstairs. the remaining members of the umbrella academy put their heads down.

ben had knocked on klaus’s door after they all bade a silent reginald goodnight. “hey,” he traced the carved symbol on the door. _protection, huh?_

the door had creaked open, seemingly by itself. he ventured inside. the room looked as if a hurricane hit it. broken glass was scattered all over the floor, the curtains were torn, and the ceiling had a crack in it that definitely wasn’t there before. klaus was tall, but not that tall. he must have thrown something. and in the corner was klaus, but ben barely recognized him. his hair was mussed and his pajama shirt slipped off of one bony shoulder. his eyes were wide and terrified and he looked like he was gasping for air.

“what the h—klaus?” ben blinked. “hey, what’s wrong?” his words felt like stiff cardboard. this wasn’t right. none of this was right.

klaus covered his eyes. “stop, stop, stop, stop, just _stop_ …” he whispered. “stop stop stop stop _stop stop stop—“_

“klaus.” ben knelt down beside him. “hey, uh, breathe.” _what would you say to simon, ben?_ “it’s okay, what’s wrong? breathe, klaus, breathe…” everything was wrong—so wrong. no one seemed to notice. grace was nowhere in sight. it was like klaus had made time stop and he and ben were the only ones on earth. “hey, hey…”

“—stop please i _can’t_ i _can’t_ i _can’t_ i can’t take this please oh _god_ oh _please_ i _can’t—_ “

“there’s no one here but me, klaus.”

klaus gasped like he had been holding his breath underwater and just reached the surface. “oh _please_ , oh _please_ …”

“klaus, you’re scaring me.” ben could do nothing but watch as his brother rocked back and forth in terror. “breathe, in, out, just keep breathing…” he spoke, but he knew his words meant nothing to klaus. he might as well have been silent. there was nothing happening, no one there but the two of them, but klaus looked like he was lost in a crowd, like there were people bustling past him by the thousands. he jumped at nothing and covered his ears. “shut _up_ shut _up_ shut _up_ shut _up_ —“

and in ben’s mind, that’s where it ended.

ben couldn’t remember what happened after that. but he knew that he stayed in klaus’s room that night, and he knew that they didn’t move from that spot for hours. now he understood.

“or did you not notice that i was gone for days at a time?” klaus continued, bringing ben back to whatever version of reality he currently existed in. “just like everyone else.”

all of the scalding anger that coursed through ben’s static veins a few moments ago turned cold. he didn’t know what had come over him. klaus was his _brother_. he was all he had left. all he had left in the world. “klaus…”

it was all ben could do not to cry right then. it had been more than seven years, and he had not shed one tear, but the thought of what he had just done to the person that saved him stirred up shame that had been neglected for a while.

“and you think,” klaus swallowed hard, wincing. “you think that i can’t possibly understand needing something...as, as much as you need life?” he asked.

ben had enough sense to keep his mouth shut.

“ben!” klaus coughed, a cruel imitation of what was probably supposed to be a laugh. “i’ve been a—an addict for twelve years now!” he swayed on his feet as if on cue and regained a better grip on the wall. ben resisted the urge to help him stand. “you think i don’t understand needing something so bad it hurts?”

ben breathed out, feeling himself flickering but doing nothing to try and get klaus to stop it. now that he was looking at klaus properly, he really did look terrible.

“it got too hard to juggle a constant high and keeping my dead brother alive, okay?” he exhaled shakily. “i took too long to make the decision, the drugs did it for me.” klaus murmured, avoiding ben’s eye.

ben was fading out of view, but he stepped forward. “klaus, i’m sorry. i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i didn’t realize what dad made you do. i’m sorry i never noticed.” he whispered, leaning towards his brother. “hey, look at me. i’m sorry.”

klaus’s breathing, already ragged, was getting shallower by the minute. “it’s okay.” he breathed. slowly, ben watched his brother’s face change in fearful recognition. his eyes widened like he had just been told a horrific secret. “hey, ben, maybe, right now, isn’t the best...time…”

 _oh, klaus_. ben froze. “what did you do to make me appear, klaus?” he said, low and urgent. he was sure he already knew the answer, but gave klaus the benefit of the doubt anyway. “klaus?”

“it wasn’t...wasn't for you personally.” klaus muttered. “no offense…” his eyelashes fluttered, just as they had when ben had first asked him about how much time had passed since they last saw each other.

“what did you do.” ben whispered.

“i didn’t mean to…”

“klaus, please.”

“i thought it, it would work backwards, too.” klaus mumbled. “ _jesus, it’s fucking cold…_ ”

“you thought what would work backwards?” ben asked fervently. “klaus, this is important.” all of his caretaking instincts were flooding back. every memory of taking care of simon, every method for pacification and health, every tip and trick grace taught him to keep simon happy and healthy.

“it only works if i’m sober…” he exhaled. “i thought maybe it’d work if i…”

 _oh, klaus. oh, you fucking idiot. you absolute fucking idiot. fuck._ “if you overdosed.”

“...it’s not like i had anything...to lose…” his words were more air than voice.

 _you absolute fucking—_ “hey. hey, it’s okay. breathe, klaus, breathe.” ben murmured. suddenly, he was back in that ravaged room with the writing on the walls, watching his brother shake and struggle for breath. “it’s okay, just, just breathe.”

klaus lifted his head and offered ben a crude ghost of a smile. no gleam of the teeth, just emptiness. “feels familiar, doesn’t it?” he mumbled.

_he remembers._

“don’t talk, don’t talk.” _what would you say to simon, ben?_

klaus shivered and tried to wrap the arm that wasn’t holding him up against the wall around himself, but that didn’t seem to be working. “ _jesus christ_ …”

“what did i just say.” _don’t panic, don’t panic._ panic had died with ben. he had spent his life in anxiety and it just wore off as he spent more time in the blackness of his afterlife. he couldn’t feel his heart anymore—what was the use in panic attacks when nothing was happening to panic about?

this was different.

seven years ago, with klaus, he had never felt helpless. klaus took the things he said into account, he listened, and he improved because of it. even though ben couldn’t touch him, they interacted. but looking at klaus now, ben felt panic grip him by the throat. he was watching his brother slip away before his very eyes and he could do absolutely nothing about it.

“ben, this was a stupid idea…” klaus slurred.

 _no shit_. “shut up, klaus.” ben replied tersely. “you should sit, or, or, or something…” he ran a hand through his hair just to have something to do.

“already ahead of you.” klaus muttered, sinking down with his back against the wall. if he had the strength to break his fall, he would have, but seeing as he didn’t, ben heard his body thud onto the pavement and winced.

 _treat him like you would a piece of glass, ben._ grace’s voice said in the back of his mind. _hold him gently and be sure not to drop him._ she had been talking about simon, but now her words took on a completely different meaning.

“i would if i could, mom.” ben breathed. klaus blinked, but said nothing, his eyes half-lidded and glassy.

 _think, think, think._ “i can’t call anyone, i can’t run for help, i’m…” _stuck_. ben kneeled down next to klaus and looked at his hands. “i can’t do anything.”

he murmured. they fell into a tense silence. only the rushing of oncoming cars and klaus’s uneven breaths could be heard. ben couldn’t think of anything to say. he was utterly useless. all the things he would have done with simon wouldn’t work because klaus wasn’t some fucking pet that he could pat on the head and call it a day. there was nothing he could do. all of the coping mechanisms he used to use as a kid flew out of his head. he kneeled on the ground and looked down.

“children behave…” klaus whispered, breaking the silence.

ben’s head snapped up. “what did you say?” he asked softly. if he didn’t know better, he’d say that klaus was reciting—

“...that’s what they say when we’re together.” regardless of klaus’s wrecked voice, ben recognized the words. he hadn’t heard them in so, so long.

“and watch how you play…”

 _klaus, you’re a genius._ ben felt relief wash over him. one of the main things he had taught klaus to do when things got too hard to handle was recite things. song lyrics, book titles, whatever he could remember. and for ben, most of the time, it worked. focusing intently on something else took his mind off of whatever was freaking him out.

he didn’t think klaus remembered.

this was a song all hargreeves siblings knew by heart. a masterpiece by eighties pop diva tiffany, it was from before their time, but that didn’t stop luther from playing it whenever he got the chance. it embodied their spirit, albeit in a super weird, ironic way. it was perfect.

ben found the lyrics in some remote part of his brain and spoke them aloud, earning a faint smile from his brother. “...they don’t understand and so we’re running just as fast as we can.”

“holdin’ onto one another’s hands.” klaus swallowed hard so he could continue. “trying to get away into the night and then you put your arms around me and we tumble to the ground and then you say.”

ben chuckled despite the worry in his chest. “i think we’re alone now.”

“there doesn’t seem to be anyone aroouund…” klaus wrapped his arms around himself tighter. “see, ben?” he closed his eyes. “you’re not useless.”

ben’s heart twisted with an emotion he couldn’t name. this was his brother. and he was trying his hardest, and even if it wasn’t ideal, it was the best he could do. even though he could be an absolute idiot sometimes. “keep your eyes open.” ben chided. “stay with me, klaus.”

klaus nodded weakly. “mm.”

as ben took in his brother’s face, his tired eyes, hollow cheeks, and chapped, cut lips, he realized something he had almost forgotten. he loved to care. he loved to feel needed. and he loved klaus like no one else he had ever loved in his life. they were all they had, and ben could fuck that up or he could go with it, and right now klaus’s well-being relied heavily on that decision.

they were alone now, but ben knew that this time, it would be different. this time they’d make it work. it’d be fine, it really, really would. even if they had to spend all night in the alley.

it would be dark and cold for the two of them, but as long as they were together, it would never be that bad.


End file.
